he could call exclusively his own? Did not this constant watchfulness over so many, distract his attention from his wife and children? By no means. The domestic arrangements of the house were such that he could retire and be as solitary as a hermit. No member of the band lost his individuality any more than men do by living in cities and villages. The association and its laws did not merge the domestic relations or destroy the family bond. On the contrary, the father had more time to give to his wife and the education of his children than is usual, because both himself and wife were freed from much of that domestic drudgery which so much occupies the time of the middle ranks of men. Three women, by a judicious. distribution of labor, can cook and keep house for thirty persons with more ease and much greater economy than one woman can do all the work for five persons, the average number of households. And if the outlay in conveniences and labor-saving machinery which a large establishment authorizes, be taken into account, this truth becomes still more apparent.

Ruth heartily from the first coöperated with her husband, and took her full share of all the hard work; and by her example and readiness at the outset, procured for herself all the leisure she desired in the end. Here the women were not the mere lookers-on at the operations of their husbands. They had an interest in the profits of the concern, and voted upon all questions which involved the general conduct of affairs. Being responsible for their opinions, in one sense, they took care to inform themselves upon subjects which unhappily are too often considered out of the reach and beyond the capacity of the female mind. Woman at Meadow-Farm was not the mere cook of her husband's food, his house-keeper, his plaything, or his drudge; the nurse and convenience of the lord, one or the other of which offices most women fill in society. Her time was considered equally valuable with that of the males; and her heart and ambition were not crushed by receiving for her best exertions the paltry pittance, about one third the wages of males, which the highest civilization awards to her.

At the end of five years John Stewart was worth the thousand dollars, and the union with Clara Welton was consummated, amid much rejoicing and real happiness of all parties concerned.

Philip Welton still continues to this day to be the school-master, preacher, playmate and friend of all persons who need such offices at the farm. The writer has made several visits to his chance friends since the time when he first became acquainted with them; and now, in conclusion, and by way of apology, would say to the reader that he has been led to undertake this simple and unadorned narration of the origin of one of the finest villages in the country, because he thought it remarkable that a scheme of association should have been carried out and accomplished, without making any noise in the world, just prior to the time of a great movement among some leading and philosophic minds upon the same subject.

The village now looks much like other villages; but if you examine into the character of the people there, you will find great union

of heart and hand in all philanthropic effort. It is a remarkable place. Rufus Gilbert still lives, and his gentle wife is the happy mother of a numerous offspring. May they long live to bless and adorn the world; but not for ever; for we feel sure that for such hearts and characters there is prepared, in that other world, a blissful reward for their exertions in this, and free from its trials and perplexities; where there is no more sorrow and sighing, and all tears are wiped away for ever.

Upon her pallid lip a smile is set,

The spirit's parting boon!

Why mourn that flow'rs with heaven's own dew-drops wet
Perish before their noon?

A NIGHT Ο Ν LAKE ERIE.

BY PETER VON GEIST.

NIGHT upon the waters! The blue waves of Old Erie are black, and loud, and angry; and the good ship sits uneasily, as though they were trying by incessant, convulsive throbs to shake the encumbrance from their bosom. The Heavens above are as though a pall were settling down upon us; and the horizon on all sides is marked by a zone of lurid light, like the distant fires of a conflagration. The light-house, far behind us, glimmers like the rising evening star, and its ray flashes along the dim and swelling surface, revealing the wide and heaving waste that intervenes. The strained masts quiver, and the vessel bends like an overmatched, but unyielding gladiator, before the blast. It is a night to make the timid tremble, and the bold to shout out a wild 'Halloo!' to the winds as they sweep past.

Onward the barque drives; and I sit myself down on the bowsprit, over the water, and look down on the boiling surges beneath. Eternally, in quick succession, the white-capped waves come foaming in, and hurl themselves against the reeling bow. High are they flung back, in broken fragments, and madly, like grape-shot, is the spray dashed far out on either side. Now the ship rears up her head, as if affrighted and seeking to escape from the encounter, and in a moment she plunges desperately down into the foaming mass, which leaps up to receive her.

'On high the winds lift up their voices,' and howl, and shriek, and moan, and rage; and on high I lift up my voice too, but it sounds like the soft notes of a lute amid the smoke and thunder of artillery. Oh! ye spirits that ride on the wings of the wind! and ye spirits of the deep, that roll, and twist, and writhe, like serpents, on the water! who taught you to combat so furiously? The blue sky, that is wont to smile down on your repose, or on your peaceful sports, is veiled by the smoke of your battle; and under a dark canopy, as is most befitting strife, whether of spirits or of men, you wage fierce war. The petty distinctions of society; the vanity, the acquirements, the skill of man, are in your presence awed and abashed. But have their ambition and the evil passions which fill and degrade his heart taken possession of you also? I will not believe it; for Nature never conceived nor uttered an unholy thought. Or perhaps your rage is kindled against this fabric of human construction, which invades your ancient domain? Ah! well; howl and fight on; the cunning handiwork of him who calls himself your master defies your rebellious ravings!

What a stirring thing it is, to throw out a hearty defiance to the thunder and tempest! When a man flings his gauntlet into the

face of the storm, all the strength there is in him is strained up; he feels himself rigid, and braced to meet the impending shock. If I were disposed, I might pause here to show, that in the everyday moulding of mind and character, a kindred principle is perceivable; that it is gigantic opposition that makes the gigantic man; that every man who has done great things in the world has met such opposition; and that he was a great man, because his mind was taught to despise them, and to go forth, trusting in its own strength to meet them. I do not wonder that Ajax, when he defied the lightning, felt himself a god.

Undismayed, the stout ship struggles on, driving through the rolling sea, as if determined to force her way into, and loose herself in, the unmeasured and unexplored tract of darkness that lies before us. At length the night and the elements are beginning to assume something like their accustomed tranquillity; and now the wind, wearied with the contest, forgets its anger, and sweeps by only in short, irregular growls; while the sea continues to heave up its long, black, unbroken waves; as though the passion which penetrates and rages in a deep bosom, does not its work so quickly and lightly. The heavy clouds that seemed to embrace the lake gradually lift, and are borne swiftly and in fragments away toward the north. One by one, and for a moment at a time, the stars come out, and the rising crescent moon sends down her first trembling rays; trembling, indeed, but like the timid smile of the loved one, when it shines on the troubled sea of doubt and despair in our hearts, how brightening! The darkness is illumined by that gentle light, and we go on our way with new hopes and new courage.

The light which is thrown on the scene is like that of dawn, dim but steady, and sufficient to reveal, as far as it can be revealed, its magnificence. On the left, and at but a little distance, rise perpendicular bluffs, an hundred feet in height, and nearly as many miles in length, against which the swell is breaking, with hollow thunder, and spray dashed far up its jagged rocks. On the other side, far as the eye can reach, the waves come rolling in, grim and gray, seeming to proceed from where the edge of the horizon rests on the bosom of the waters. Occasionally, one which lifts its crest above the others, may be seen far off bursting into foam; in a single place, at first, and then the white streak winding along its summit mile after mile, till the eye is tired with following it.

There is grandeur in the unvarying sameness of these parallel ridges, which sway the ship up and down as though it were a cork, as well as in the deep monotone of their voice. This same voice, this same tone, has been given forth in storm and calm, in the darkness of night and in the light of day, for uncounted ages! When there was no created eye or heart to see and be moved, deep has here called unto deep, and storm has answered storm!

These cliffs have always felt the gentle wash, or the leaping weight of the waters. This lake felt no change when its surface was first broken by the keel of civilized man; its voice is as loud in wrath, and as soft in calm, and its pulsations are as deep, as

when it made music to solitude, and disported itself alone! And by this is taught the enquirer one useful lesson (and on what page of her great book, does not Nature speak such instruction?) in human life. When a man is great, he is elevated above the heads of his fellow men so far, that the objects and passions which are so vast to them seem to him, from the distance, very small. And one of the first things that he loses sight of, is love of the approbation of the world. If he ever manifests this love, it is a sign that he has descended; and it is not surprising that he should sometimes; for he cannot be expected to be so elevated, except periodically. But when he is doing a great work, he goes forward like these waves, in his own strength, and in the majesty of his own purposes; and the breath of the crowd, whether sent forth to applaud or condemn, is like the idle wind, which passes by and touches him not. history of every poet, or philosopher, or politician, who has himself gone before, and hastened on the slow footsteps of his generation in the march of improvement, would illustrate this principle. They have, each one, forgotten the world, and toiled to discover and elaborate some new truth, for its own sake, or for the sake of others; and when the gem was duly set, luminous, to shed light on man's pathway, and beautiful, to elevate and refine his mind, purify and warm his heart, it has been cast down with a careless hand, for those who will, to pick up.

The

I might exhibit this position more familiarly, by appealing to the consciousness of every writer; the present writer, for instance; and assuring him if he ever wrote or thought any thing really good, when he was pondering all the while what other people would think or say concerning it? It is impossible: he paints a scene or landscape, or analyzes passion, because he loves to do so; and of course, does it best when he forgets for the moment that his picture or reasoning will come under the eye of any one else. Man can make music fit for the stars to hear, only when he makes it to the stars; and then when men hear it, they will call it the music of the spheres.

The night-lamps of the firmament are unveiled, and shine down as calmly as they did on the garden of Eden. I wonder that they are not tired, and do not grow dim with long watching; the more that their watch is over such a world as this. They look down steadily on scenes of crime, and folly, and suffering; and yet their pure eyes are never seen obscured with grief, or to grow brighter through anger. Perhaps, like some noble men, they see in the mass of unclean things with which man has filled his soul the spirit of Divinity, which was breathed into it at the first, not yet wholly corrupted or cast out; and keep hoping on, that he will before long purify himself, and that they shall again shine down on the garden of Eden. We love them for this, because they love us. Like GoD, they are present to every heart that looks up toward Heaven. Like the countenance of a friend, too, they speak to us; rejoicing with a dancing ray, when we rejoice; pouring down a warm, steady flood of light, when we are full of quiet and happi